


When in Rome

by Janina



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-20
Updated: 2019-12-21
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:34:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21867592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Janina/pseuds/Janina
Summary: Sansa has run off to Rome to get her head on straight after a breakup. Jon follows her.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark
Comments: 62
Kudos: 257





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Gorgeous banner by @mynameisnoneya! Thank you love!! This fic was inspired by that pic of Jon. 
> 
> [](https://imgur.com/Lr7JZAv)  
> 

Sansa Stark peered down into the foyer of the villa she was renting for the next two weeks and found the top of Jon Targaryen’s curly head. He was standing there, adjusting the cuffs of his suit jacket. He’d texted her to let her know he was there and she’d told him to let himself in. 

“Jon,” she called down to him. 

He startled a bit and then looked up at her and smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Hey.”

She shook her head. “I can’t even with you.”

“What?” he asked, with a mischievous grin. 

“You followed me to Rome!” she exclaimed. 

“I told you - I have business in the area.”

“You’re so full of shit,” she said with a laugh. 

“Are you going to come down here or not?” 

“Remember that we are friends, Jon.”

“We are, I haven’t forgotten. Good friends. I just also happen to be hopelessly in love with you.”

“So long as there’s no pressure then,” she said dryly. 

He chuckled. “There is no pressure, Sansa. We’ve gone out a million times at home in Winterfell. This is no different.”

“In Winterfell we’d go to a bar. Get a pizza. Catch a movie. We’re in Italy now. Italy is romantic…”

“Sansa, what are you so afraid of?”

“I just don’t want to hurt you!”

“Don’t worry about me. Let me worry about me. I want to take you out. You’re recovering from your break up with what’s his face...”

“Dickon.”

“Dick, right.”

Sansa laughed. “Jon.”

“Come down here. I’m hungry.”

She sighed dramatically and made her way down the stairs. She wore a long muted teal tulle skirt, and a white lace top complete with a collar. It was simple and yet elegant. Underneath, she wore pale pink strappy heels. Her makeup was simple, just enough to make her blue eyes pop, and her silky red hair was pulled back into a low bun against her neck. 

“You’re beautiful,” Jon breathed. “But then, you always are.”

She shook her head at him and rolled her eyes. Then she marched up to him and straightened the white collar of his button down. He smiled warmly at her and she found herself leaning into him.

She wasn’t immune to Jon. She never had been. He’d always been around as her older brother’s best friend, and when Robb moved away, Jon had stuck around and become her best friend, too. But she always kept him at a distance, and he knew it. And she knew he knew it. She also knew he hated it. 

It was just that Jon felt dangerous to her. He was a man she could easily lose her heart to and it terrified her to her very core. He was the man she could see an entire future with - marriage, kids, house. Even thinking about it stirred something deep inside her that made her feel something akin to yearning. It actually probably _was_ yearning. 

It was just that she wasn’t ready - or had told herself she wasn’t. So, she dated around. And Jon waited for her. Because he knew that one day, one fucking day, she was going to be his. It wasn’t as though he was wrong about that either. She felt more sparks in one simple conversation about the weather with him than she ever had in bed with anyone else. 

She remembered the day he told her he loved her, just so nonchalantly, at her mother’s birthday party of all things. They’d been outside on the deck, taking a breather from the crowd - and her from the current guy she was dating that was annoyingly high maintenance - and Jon had looked over at her and said, “Sansa Stark, I am so in love with you.”

She hadn’t known what to say and when she’d tried, Jon had stopped her and said, “You don’t have to say a damn thing, sweetheart. I know you don’t love me. Not like that. And you might never, but I wanted you to know.” 

And then he’d left her standing there, her mouth agape. Over the past few years he’d told her again, always surprising her by the confession, even though she had come to see in his actions and how he would sometimes look at her as though she’d hung the stars. Jon was so good to her, always had been. If she wanted a thing, he got her the thing. And she knew it wasn’t because he was out to win her over and make her love him, but because he genuinely wanted to see her happy. He’d told her as much. 

And oh, but she’d do anything for him, too. She did love him. Loved him so much it scared the crap out of her and lately...well, lately it was getting harder to keep him at arm's length. 

Now he stood before her, smiling and so handsome with his neatly trimmed dark beard and his black curls shorn to his shoulders. “You are so handsome,” she told him, the words flying out of her before she could stop them. 

“Thank you,” he said. 

She cocked her head to the side as she rested her hands on the lapels of his jacket. “Do you really have business here?”

“Before my aunt was booted out of Targaryen Associates, she had pissed off quite a people. She liked to play favorites and word got around. I came to smooth some feathers.”

Sansa narrowed her eyes. 

He sighed. “But yes, I am mainly here to see you. I was worried about you. You ran away to Italy because of this break-up.”

She shook her head. “It’s not as terrible as you think.”

“Oh?”

She sighed and stepped away. “Let’s go eat. I’d like a drink.” _And liquid courage._

He turned, offering her his arm. She slid her arm through his and after grabbing her purse off the table next to the door, they headed out. 

*********

Jon took her to Imago, a restaurant he claimed to have been to before. Sansa wondered at that, since the ambience of the place screamed “romance”. Dim lighting, and a view of the city below, the place was definitely not somewhere you just stopped because you were feeling peckish. 

Led to their table by the window, Sansa couldn’t seem to pull her eyes away from the view. Jon leaned across the table and touched her hand. “Sweetheart,” he said. “You going to look at the menu?”

Jon called her that often and though she had thought in the past she should stop him from doing so, she couldn’t bring herself to do it. It made her feel safe and loved and cocooned in all things Jon. 

She still remembered when he was just a gross smelly boy playing rugby with Robb and their friends. Now he was successful and the most sought after man in Westoros who did things with businesses and their investments - okay, she wasn’t super versed in what he did, but she was just a lowly history professor who had probably used up all of her savings to come to Italy. 

In some ways he would always be that gross smelly boy, but that gross smelly boy was _hers_. Even when she didn’t want to admit it to herself, even when she denied it and tried to ignore it, even when she thought _wait, just wait_ , he was hers. 

And she was his. And he knew it, too, the fucker. Or, at least, she was pretty sure he knew it. She was beginning to wonder now that they were in such a nice place for dinner. 

“How many women have you brought here?” she asked smoothly, the corners of her lips tugging up at the corners to let him know she was joking - even if she was really curious. 

“A few. No one special.”

She arched her brows. 

“Does it bother you?” he asked with a smirk. 

She picked up her menu. She didn’t want to know, and she didn’t really want to have that conversation. She couldn’t expect him to live as a monk while she sorted herself out, could she?

“Sansa.”

She looked up at him. 

“What do you want me to say?”

She heaved a sigh. Good question. Just then the waitress came by, and Sansa used what little Italian she knew to order her meal. Jon ordered his in fluent Italian, and a bottle of wine for them to share. 

“I know you haven’t lived like a monk,” she said. 

“Before you stole my heart? No. After? Different story.” He cocked his head to the side. “I’m just surprised that it matters all of a sudden.”

The waitress came back with their wine and Sansa knew it was uncouth, but she guzzled quite a bit of it down. It didn’t burn going down the way some wines did, but she knew Jon hated that and probably knew exactly which wine wouldn’t do that. 

“You’re so annoying,” she muttered. 

He laughed softly. “Why is that?”

“Because of how good you are to me. Can’t you treat me a little bit like shit? It’s what I know.”

He sighed and sat back. “Why don’t you tell me about Dick?”

“I don’t want to talk about Dickon. He’s not…” she sighed. “He’s not relevant.”

“How is he not relevant? You came here to get away after your breakup.”

The waitress came to the table with their first course. 

“Can we put a pin in this until after dinner?” she asked. “Let’s talk about something else. Like how I think Robb and Theon and Margaery are hooking up together.”

He studied her closely, fork in hand and he twirled it. He sighed. “Okay. Until after dinner.”

Relieved, Sansa tucked into her salad. 

xxxxxxxxxx

After dinner, and after concluding that it was a definite possibility that Theon, Margaery and Robb were in fact all sleeping together, Jon took Sansa on a walk by the Colosseum. It was gorgeous at night, and when she saw it all lit up, she breathed, “Wow” in wonder. 

“Something isn’t it?” he asked. 

She nodded. 

“So...about that conversation we put a pin in.”

Sansa heaved a sigh for courage and faced him. “Okay, so Dickon. I’m not...I’m not in love with him. I wasn’t even falling in love with him.”

Jon shifted on his feet, a sign that this was not a comfortable topic for him. He didn’t like to hear about her boyfriends, and she didn’t like to tell him about them. It always felt as though she was cheating on him and then taunting him with her infidelity. 

“Then…?”

She held up her hands, palms up, and then dropped them to her sides and said, “I’m done. I’m tired of running, Jon. I can’t do it anymore. It’s not that you wore me down, because that’s not how it has been at all. I just - you’ve always been there. It’s always been you in the back of my mind, always you interrupting my relationships because I’d think - Jon wouldn’t do that. Jon doesn’t do that. Jon would say this when I was being a cranky hag, or Jon would do this if I was acting like a lunatic. Everything they did was wrong and all that you do - even when you’re driving me fucking crazy - is right.”

He took a step closer to her, his eyes wide. “Sansa.”

“I love you,” she said. “I’ve always loved you. And it’s always terrified me how much because you’re the only one that has ever known me - truly and completely known me - and I know that you’d be it. I wasn’t ready when you told me how you felt. I wasn’t ready for that to be it. I’m not even sure I’m ready now. I’m twenty-seven years old and I feel like I’ve barely done anything. But I’ve run. I’ve run real far away from you.”

“To Italy, even.”

“I needed to think, to...I don’t know - prepare?”

“Prepare?”

“That’s probably not the right word.”

He stepped closer to her, their bodies inches apart. “You love me.”

“I do, and I’m sorry it’s taken me so long. I’ve always known it would be you. I just had to try other stuff before I got here...do you...still...want me?”

He kissed her by way of answer and she gripped his biceps to have something to hold onto. When he licked the seam of her lips with his tongue, she moaned and her mouth parted for him. He tasted like the tart he’d had for dessert. His arms came around her and she wound hers around him, pressing herself firmly against him, marveling at how she felt even safer there in his arms. So loved and cherished and so incredibly ready to mount him right there in front of the Roman Gods. 

Jon kissed her as though she’d done a PowerPoint Presentation on how she liked to be kissed and he’d taken copious notes. His lips were soft and yet firm and she loved the feel of his beard on her skin. He was all man and he felt so good against her. 

“I love you,” she whispered. 

“Aw, sweetheart, my sweet Sansa, I love you too,” he said hoarsely. “I’ve loved you for so long I feel like I was born loving you.”

“So you’ll have me then?”

“Yes,” he whispered. “Always yes.” He kissed her again, even deeper this time. 

“Jon Jon Jon,” she muttered against his lips. “Will you take me back to the villa? I want you.”

“Are you sure? We don’t have to rush into anything if you’re not ready.”

“I’m ready. Take me home and fuck me or I’ll throw you down on the ground where all the Gods can see.”

He laughed, a deep dark rumble, and kissed her hard. He gripped her hips. “I’m scared,” he admitted. “Do you know how many times I’ve dreamt of this? Am I awake? Pinch me - no, don’t! You hurt when you pinch.”

She laughed happily, tears of joy now running down her face. “I want you. I’ve wanted you for a very long time, Jon.”

“Once we make love, Sansa, I’m not letting you go. Not ever. So be absolutely certain.”

She kissed him, slowly. “I’m certain.”

He was panting and hard; she could feel him against her stomach. His voice was rough with emotion and need when he simply said, “Let’s go.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much people who commented and left kudos! I'm sorry I didn't get a chance to respond to you all, but I was very pleased and surprised by the response! 
> 
> This chapter has smut and is such a sap fest you're all gonna get toothaches.

**Three Years Later**

The bride wore a muted pink. The groom wore a soft gray tux and a bowtie that matched the bride’s dress. 

The bride was not blushing so much as beaming, and the groom appeared to not have his feet on the ground at any point during the ceremony. 

It was a small affair, just a few family members. When they returned home after a two-week honeymoon, their friends planned on throwing them a huge reception to make up for the one they wouldn’t have this day. 

The bride and groom had decided early on that what they wanted was to be married in the place their relationship had officially began: the Colosseum.

For after the ceremony they had rented a room at Imago for a small dinner. And then their family could do whatever the hell they wanted because the newlyweds planned on returning to the villa where they’d shared their first night together. 

Location was more important than a huge wedding. 

At dinner the couple sat nearly on top of each other, unable to stop smiling at each other, kissing, touching, and, as the bride’s sister complained, “making everyone at the table want to throw up.”

After dessert, the groom decided he’d had enough waiting and stood. The bride stood with him and they took their turns thanking their family and then they left, practically running out of the restaurant. 

When they returned to the villa, Jon carried Sansa over the threshold as was tradition and then proceeded to carry her up to the bedroom. She nuzzled into his neck the whole way up. 

The bedroom was decorated in creams and pinks, and the bed, set against the wall with a canopy, was most definitely the focal point of the room. It was large and laden with pillows and a thick feather down comforter. It hadn’t changed all that much since the last time they’d been there three years prior. 

Sansa fondly remembered they had barely left the bedroom that week. Their hunger for each other had been strong. Potent. And now, even with three years under their belt and a shared home, they were still just as hungry for each other. 

Jon set her down upon the hardwood floor and, murmuring and giggling together, they helped each other undress. 

“We got married today,” Jon whispered in awe as he pulled Sansa to him. Both blessedly naked, they fit together like puzzle pieces. She looked up at him and wound her arms around his neck. 

“We did,” she murmured. “I’m Sansa Stark Targaryen.”

Jon beamed. “You’re my _wife,_ Sansa.”

She leaned up and kissed him softly. “And you are my husband.”

He kissed her hungrily and hefted her up in his arms. She wound her legs around him and he walked her to the bed and set her down upon it. She scooted back into the middle of the bed and raised her arms to him. 

Jon crawled up on the bed and took his time just as he had their first night together, dropping kisses all over her body, caressing her, and stroking her. He murmured how much he loved her, how happy she made him, and how he still could not believe that she was his. 

She was trembling with need by the time he pressed his lips against hers. As much as he could not believe she was his, she sometimes couldn’t believe that this wonderful man was hers. He was everything. _Her_ everything. 

“I worship you,” he said softly, calling back to the same words he had spoken that night. 

“Make love to me, Jon,” she pleaded. “I need you.”

One hand snuck between her legs and she parted them, allowing him to stroke her. She moaned and pushed herself against him, seeking more. 

“I love how wet you get for me,” he whispered. “Do you want me to go down on you, sweetheart? I would love a taste.”

She shook her head. “We have all night, Jon. I want my husband inside me right now.”

He groaned. “What my wife wants, my wife gets.” He moved over her and she wrapped her legs around him as he planted his elbows on either side of her head. He kissed her long and deep as he rubbed himself against her and when she could take no more of his teasing, she reached down and placed him at her opening. 

He laughed lowly and nipped at her bottom lip. “Is my wife trying to tell me something?”

“Yes,” she breathed. “Fuck me.”

He pushed inside her slowly and they shared a gasp. “Don’t call it that,” he muttered as he began to move within her.

“You’re such a sap, Jon Targaryen, and I love it.”

He grunted as he stroked inside her at a steady pace. Sansa met his thrusts with her own as she glided her nails up his back. She then massaged the back of his neck where his hairline started and he shivered and started to move harder and faster. That spot was an erogenous zone for him. 

He bent his head and suckled at one nipple - an erogenous spot for her - and she moaned. 

When her nipple was erect and wet, he moved to her other one and sucked. 

“Jon, I’m close, baby.”

He lifted his head and gazed down at her reverently, the way he always did when they made love. “I love you so much, Sansa,” he whispered hoarsely. 

“Mmmm...I love you, too,” she murmured. “Now stroke my clit.”

He let out a short laugh. “So bossy.”

“Yes, now do it.”

He got to his knees and pulled her up with him so that she could ride him while he stroked her. She wound her arms around him and panted in his ear. “You feel so good inside me, husband. So hot and thick. God, you’re so deep inside me.”

“Sansa!” he gasped. “I need you to cum!”

“Fuck me, fuck me - oh, yes, right there!” She cried out, screamed really, as she clamped down around him. 

Jon let go not long after, roaring out his release. He held her tight as he spilled inside her. And then his arms loosened fractionally as his orgasm ebbed. He breathed heavy in her neck, his breath cooling as it hit the sweat that had formed there. 

“Jesus,” he gasped. “Every time is like the first time.”

Sansa moved her head back so she could look at him. “Jon?”

“Yes, my love?”

She swept some curls from his sweaty brow and looked him straight in the eye. “Thank you for waiting for me.”

He swallowed hard, his gray eyes filling with such love and affection that she almost had to look away from the intensity of it. “Sansa, my sweet wife...there wasn’t ever going to be anyone for me but you. I had no choice.”

“You knew the whole time, didn’t you?” she asked softly. “You knew we’d end up together.”

He smiled. “I had a feeling.”

She laughed and pressed herself against him, enjoying the feel of him, his hardness to her softness. The feeling of his chest hair tickling her. And the smell of him - cologne and Jon. 

She thought, quite happily, _I am right where I was always meant to be. With Jon._


End file.
